


Nowhere Good

by mercuriallyCooperative



Category: Courage the Cowardly Dog, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, and I wrote it at four in the morning, i don't know famous people, it was for an assignment, so i choose tv characters i guess, which explains the characterization, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuriallyCooperative/pseuds/mercuriallyCooperative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A typical day for Courage; less so for the God of Thunder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nowhere Good

**Author's Note:**

> In Advanced Narrative Writing, we had a short assignment. "Write a dialogue with two famous people; keep them in character." Now, I don't know famous people. Like. I just don't. No less, well enough to write them. But we *were* allowed to use fictional characters. I thought up a few that I knew well enough to get at least slightly correct, yet remained likely-recognizable to both our class and our professor.
> 
> As much as I would have loved to write Loki, a situation with Thor and Courage seemed like it would give me a lot more room to work. And possibly screw up.
> 
> One way or another, I ended up writing this after all my other homework at something like 1am-4am this last morning. So don't judge it too harshly- I think some characterization is a little off for Thor, and there was a short lived attempt to play the guess-who-this-character-is-without-their-name, which doesn't work so well with AO3's tagging system. Take it as you will. These are not fandoms I spend much time, of any, writing in.
> 
> That said, I suddenly feel the strong need to make my way back into the years of Courage and the years of fanfiction of old:
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or of the actual gods. So don't sue me or smite me, please. I likewise don't own Courage the Cowardly Dog; the dorms would have a fit. I also don't own any super sketchy hidden facilities hidden in the middle of Nowhere, so, if you find one with my name on it, please contact me immediately, it's totally probably fraud. }=o)

The air vent rattled. Strapped to an operating table, a stout blonde man raised his eyes to the sound. Once again, he tested the shackles that bound him, and once again he failed to budge them the smallest bit. It was uncanny, he thought to himself- his strength could move mountains and turn the course of wars; he had bested enormous serpents and unnumbered invasions from beyond this mortal realm. And yet now, in this sterile white room, with its cold and heavy bindings, he felt as weak as a newborn lamb. It was one thing to forge shackles that might hold him. There were uncountable sorceries across existence, and lately he had seen science that matched them equally. It was not unthinkable that some material in creation could hold him prisoner. But he could barely raise his head, unfettered though it was, from the table. The effort of twitching a finger took willpower, and his struggle against a single one of his shackles left him breathless with the strain.

If it was magic that held him here, what sorcerer would be so arrogant as to presume to hold him prisoner? What sorcerer would be so powerful? And if it was some mad scientist or government and all their new drugs, that was worrying too; they either knew too much about him, about his people, and what would weaken them instead of kill them outright, or they knew too little, and would seek to learn more from his own body.

He grudgingly let his muscles relax back against the table, but he kept his eyes on the vent near the ceiling. It had shaken twice before, and then stopped. He wondered what was behind the small portal; nobody had come into the room in the hours since he had awoken there, and he had no notion of where in the Nine Realms he could be.

Minutes ticked by, and the man on the table waited, growing ever more frustrated as he did. The vent remained still. Nobody entered the room. The man briefly examined the single door, but it, too, remained still. It locked from the inside, from what he could see, although he did not doubt a key might open it from the outside.

Finally, the man took a short breath. He hoped that he was not being observed by whoever had brought him here.

“You! In the vent!” he whispered loudly. A sharp thump and a muffled exclamation was the response, and the man winced, glancing back at the unopened door. When it remained closed, he continued.

“I mean you no harm! I am Thor, of the Asgard- of the Avengers! I awoke in this place chained- a prisoner. Do you know anything about why I am here?”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the screws holding the vent in place began to turn. One by one, they dropped to the top of the shelves below them with a quiet clank. The vent cover slid aside. Thor blinked.

A small purple dog, with black ears and black spots, crawled out of the vent. It brushed itself off, and seemed to replace a penny on its person, as though it had pockets in its fur. It stood on its hind legs, and surveyed the room like one of the meerkats the blonde man had seen on a Midgardian ‘nature documentary’.

“Wuh-wuwuhuwu-huwuhu-wa,” said the dog, hopping back and forth from one leg to the other.

“Oh no, this bad, really bad,” said Courage the dog, looking anxiously the man on the table.

“Small dog- I am sorry but I cannot understand you. Whatever binds me here steals from me the Allspeak as well as my strength. You can understand me?”

Hopping down from the shelves, Courage nodded vigorously. “That’s how Muriel could understand me! And why she’s so strong! They stole your powers!” His teeth began chattering and a whine built up in the back of his throat.

“Calm yourself! If I can but free myself, I will find who has captured us and bring them to justice! Tell me, are we yet on Midgard? Your Earth?”

“Yes! Yes we’re on Earth? You need to help me find Muriel, they have her, she’s in trouble! They don’t know what’s wrong but- they don’t want to give your powers back!”

“I hope your nodding means yes as it does with my people and the other Midgardians I have encountered,” Thor murmured to himself, watching the purple dog shake his head quickly, then scramble around the room. He said more loudly, “I ask again- have you seen why I have been brought here?”

“Oooooooh, why is it always the charades?” Courage moaned to himself.

“Wuhruhuh-huruhuh-we-weruhuh,” the dog said, stopping within Thor’s line of sight. Quickly he mimed a strong man, then blood being taken into a syringe, then a small, weaker person injecting the syringe into themselves, then suddenly grew into a decent imitation of the Hulk, green and growling. Shrinking back down to normal, the dog began running around the room again, rifling through the drawers and cabinets.

“-and it’s killing her! I have to get you outta here so you can help her!” The cabinets and drawers were empty of anything but pristine surgical tools and a few glowing devices that Courage gingerly shoved onto one of the counters.

 


End file.
